Of Sugary Marigolds and Glossy Tar
by Gothika Faerie
Summary: This is a collection of stories concerning the turbulent but consistently heartfelt devotion shared by La Muerte and Xibalba.
1. Buried Treasure

Title: Of Sugary Marigolds and Glossy Tar

Summary: Reconciliation is a wondrous process but certainly not always easy. As both the rulers of the Land of the Remembered and Land of the Forgotten will learn, it will take two hearts to beat to fix a dysfunctional relationship. However, perhaps, it is the very same haphazard nature of their newfound love that makes it all exciting. This is a collection of stories concerning the turbulent but consistently heartfelt devotion shared by La Muerte and Xibalba.

Genre: Romance

Rated: T but there will be times when this barrier will be pushed. I shall forewarn in case of anyone who are squeamish over such matters.

A/N: I finally crawled out from under the rock that is my university life and am back into the business. So, I celebrated by watching Book of Life and am completely head over hills with Grave Painters! They made that movie so good! They are such a flamboyant reincarnation of Persephone and Hades and how Xibalba practically melts at her touch is pure adorableness.

Chapter 1

Buried Treasure

" _What do you see in him?"_

The goddess of Death posed that question to herself as her golden pupils surveyed the festivities of the Day of the Dead. She glided across the ground, a majestic creation of sugar, licorice and resplendent red silk adorned with marigolds as the mortal children darted around her, completely unaware of the celestial presence amongst them. It was useful really to be able to choose when and where a deity wished to show herself. La Muerte knew the people of San Angel worshipped the very soil on which she gracefully levitated over now and feared the sordid manifestation that was her lover.

Ah yes, the very same person that her mind had been heavily weighed down with. Ever since she had won the wager and Maria chose to marry the compassionate guitarist Manolo, Xibalba and her had, for lack of better words, decided to get back together and make things work again. All those years of their separation when she had banished him to the Land of the Forgotten out of raw fury after he had cheated on their last wager had been undeniably agonizing. Yes, fiestas perpetually surrounded her, loving citizens who treated her with utmost respect and glorious hordes of children she could indulge her maternal instincts on but still there had been something missing. When he left, and unceremoniously too like the sore loser he was, La Muerte felt incomplete.

As though for those centuries apart, she had been working on autopilot. Her emotions had condensed into simply kind obligations to her people and ensuring the realm ran smoothly. Outside of her duties as a ruler, she had to get accustomed to the hard truth that without him, she felt as though something essential to her happiness, her sanity was gone. She chuckled a little to herself at that last fragment of her thoughts. If anything, Xibalba knew how to drive her completely mad with rage without even trying. All he had to do was open his mouth and spew something vile about humanity and she would have to restrain every fiber of her being to not slap him.

She paused in her gliding as she stopped at a lone, unadorned grave. It was insignificant, a simple stone slab sticking out of the ground, cracked and eroded due to the harsh treatment of the natural elements. La Muerte's normally jubilant eyes shadowed over and she reached out a hand to touch the tombstone.

And yet, in spite of all their prior quarrels to his banishment, how he infuriated her with his condescension of the mortals and his wicked sense of humor, it was futile to deny that when she was finally spared of all his irritating pessimistic immaturity, she missed it almost immediately. She stared intently at the plot that the stone slab marked and a grip of anxious impatience seized her.

" _Where is he? He's normally here around the same time I'm here._ " His absence brought her back to the same question she had earlier burdened herself with and, deciding she needed a quieter place to ponder it over, she transformed into a flurry of delicate marigold petals and floated up on the roof of a nearby house. Settling herself comfortably on the straw material, she placed her hands under her chin and carried on with her musings.

No one else approved of Xibalba; she knew that. Why, she would place a very safe wager and place her very heart on the line on the fact that only she was the one that bothered to understand and get along with him. The Candle Maker was of neutral and diplomatic personality and normally just let Xibalba do his thing but they were far from compatriots. None of her people found him amusing or intriguing as she did; they all thought him vile and ruthless. She was certain none of _his_ people enjoyed his presence much like he was extremely disenchanted by them. She switched her attention from the festivities below to a workman rolling a wheelbarrow carrying barrels of tar. No doubt to prepare for a hard day's labor tomorrow. The sticky, sickly ebony substance sent shivers of longing through her. While she was composed of confectionary delicacies, Xibalba was a pillar of tar and other disgusting components. La Muerte frowned as she remembered once hearing, as Mary Beth, a couple of adolescents commenting on how "that hot La Muerte chick could do so much better than that old pile of black snot" after she had finished her daily tour guide duties. However, that was another aspect to her question that she needed to contend with.

To her, he was the most attractive man she could ever hope for. She was never a shallow woman to begin with but though he was certainly not conventionally handsome, he possessed an irresistible devilish charm that she found absolutely endearing. The way he waggled his silver eyebrows when he was attempting to flirt with her never failed to make her break into a tiny grin, as hard as she tried to show that she was clearly not in the mood. Strange as it may sound, his tar skin felt lovely and smooth under her fingers whenever she caressed his cheek. While most other people would have rather die again than touch Xibalba, she found herself enjoying the way he melted like hot ghee for frying churros under her hands. Still, they definitely did not click instantly at first sight as a couple. She was this radiant goddess that her people praised far too generously for her gorgeous appearance while her lover was shunned publicly and privately due to his questionable, reviling composition. She knew he didn't really care what other people thought but she knew he was self-conscious as much as he tried to mask it with his trickster, raconteur behavior. He never wanted to show weakness, even with her. To Xibalba, pity was a waste, as it never fixed anything. If only he knew just how much she adored every inch of him, not like she casually admitted it. She removed one of the huge marigolds that she used to decorate her hair and fiddled with the petals, sighing as she realized though she had won the wager, Xibalba had achieved a greater victory.

He had won her heart and will continue to do so regardless of how many times she had heard the far too tiresome phrase: "you deserve better than him." She stared intently into the center of the marigold, searching for an unreachable response as to why her lover was so late to meet her when right now; she could really use his presence.

"That flower looks pretty lonely all by itself now, does it not, _mi amor_?" La Muerte straightened up, gasping upon hearing that familiar silken voice that she had missed all those lonely centuries ago. She turned, still cradling the forlorn marigold in her hand to see the same annoying person her mind would not cease thinking about carrying a bouquet of what used to be vibrant, orange flowers. They were limp and wilted now but she didn't care. The gesture was absolutely unexpected and she rose to accept them.

"Ay, Balby, is this why you were late? Because I was beginning to believe you had nearly forgotten about tonight," She playfully chided though the relief coursing through her was not easily disguised. Xibalba noticed it right away and smirked, gently running his fingers through her long raven locks of hair.

"Ah, my sweet, did you miss me already? I thought it would have been a relief for you to not have to deal with me all the time," La Muerte rolled her eyes and replied by running her gentle fingers along his cheek and reveling with giggles at how he transformed into a giant puppy in her hands, panting with dazed affection.

"No, Balby. I was taking the time to remember just how lucky I am. That I was the only one blessed with the ability to see just how much of a blessing you are to me."


	2. The Winning Loss

Chapter 2

The Winning Loss

It was inscribed in the Book of Life that Xibalba was not only known for his gloomy views of humanity and self-serving nature. He was an incredibly sore loser. La Muerte was most familiar with his fact, what with all those centuries of sparring back and forth with verbal barbs and trivial wagers just to rile each other up. Though their ideologies of mankind hung at two extreme ends, their witty banter and love of high stakes ensured the two found common ground. That was dangerous however. Neither of them both had expected it to pave a passageway into the affairs of the heart. Xibalba used to only want to win desperately in order to save his massive ego but then the reason was beginning to pinpoint a particular source, a delectable dessert ravishingly robed in red and bedecked with marigolds.

La Muerte was simply too stunning for a loser. Xibalba had full knowledge of that as he watched, bitter at how the people of the Land of the Remembered earned her love so easily. All they had to do was be dead. He had scoffed at how the mortals lived hand to mouth, from living to dearly departed while he had to strive tooth and nail to get her to concentrate on him without any trace of boredom in her luscious golden pupils. If only he knew that he did not have to try so hard. The Goddess of Death had always unconditionally adored him in spite of his horrid manners and apathetic attitude towards the humans but the whole catch was that she never let on. At least, she did not let on in an obvious way. Xibalba, being far too caught up in his thinking that he needed to prove that he was worthy of her, had not caught on at all. Since he had been caught cheating in their last wager and thus banished out of her sight due to the betrayal, he knew he needed to win back her attention and then, along the way, charm her back into his good graces.

It would have all gone smoothly. The Medal of Everlasting Life would ensure Joaquin could have Maria in matrimonial bliss, meaning that he would not only rule in the Land of the Remembered and indulge shamelessly but La Muerte would look up to him and see that he was a winner. He was a man that she should respect and give a chance to. Of course, since he just was not fated to have nice things in his life, he got found out and was she ever enraged. She had grasped him by the beard and lips, her golden eyes molten like twin volcanic craters as she screamed nasty insults. Even in full bloom, a poisonous rose could still captivate with its immortal beauty.

He still could not allow victory to slip away from him. When Manolo, that damned mortal who clearly inherited his mother's pluckiness, stepped forth and challenged him, he would finally, finally win and without cheating for once! Yet, the Book of Life had another story written down. Instead of being overthrown by the massive skeletal bull he had conjured up, the guitarist stood his ground and sang an apology to the bull and this had touched the vengeful accumulation of spirits so much that they just disintegrated. Xibalba had watched, completely dumbstruck, unable to believe that he had lost again and he had not even cheated this time! He had been about ready to curse Manolo with all his might when he observed the whole coliseum giving him a standing ovation. He had to admit that the human had certainly accomplished an impressive feat. Without even wielding a sword, he had subdued a dangerous beast. La Muerte had commented on that, with the prettiest smile on her face, a smile that was well aware it belonged to a person who had won again. Any resentment Xibalba had felt of losing once more to his one heart's desire vanished instantly. She was happy in his presence and she was far too sweet to laugh at his expense though he had lost.

It was inevitable, it appeared then, that Maria would walk down the aisle with Manolo instead of Joaquin, as Xibalba had hoped. Perhaps he really did not know about women as La Muerte had playfully pointed out to him once. If he did, he would know that she did not think any less of him despite the loss. In fact, she was actually proud of him for taking his loss gracefully and allowing Manolo another chance at garnering Maria's affections. Ay, he truly did not know women.

Well, he knew one very crucial thing about the fairer sex. They could never resist a sincere, heartfelt apology. There was something apparently in seeing a testosterone driven, thinks he knows all man admitting his faults that appeased them. Ah well, if that was going to patch things up between them, he would swallow his pride. Truth be told-and The Candle Maker was the only one who knew but he never let on-Xibalba had been rather inspired by the blooming romance between Manolo and Maria. As he observed the feisty damsel dip her unsuspecting groom down to place a hot kiss on him, he could not resist the smile creeping over his slick tar face. He wanted that back. He wanted La Muerte to swoon in his arms and press her lips against him. In order for that to happen, he knew what he needed to do.

He arrived unannounced, not that his lovely one noticed for she was too engrossed in the festivities down below. He rolled his eyes when he heard the Candle Maker's outburst amongst the cheerful tossing of sombreros and shouts. Soon enough, that waxy fool would have something bigger to be all happy about. Gliding over towards her, he cleared his throat.

"Ah well, I believe you've won the wager, _mi amor_ …. along with my heart all over again," To his delight, he watched as her eyes widened at his declaration before she turned and, completely affected by his words went to him, her small delicate hands taking his larger, gloved ones. They stayed like that for a mere moment, him taking in all her majestic beauty and enjoying the feeling of her presence upon his hands. It had been far too long. A man can only remain a competitive idiot for only so long till he realizes that not having his love by his side was worth more than a paltry prize.

"I'm so sorry, my love. You deserve better than me. I know that now," The glimmer in her golden irises spurred him on with his rather uncharacteristic act. Xibalba too was not known for his apologies. She brought out the best in him and that was another reason why he needed her so ardently in his afterlife. "Will you ever forgive me?"

He sealed his act of humble surrender with a worshipful kiss on the back of her hand. La Muerte's eyes appeared just the slightest bit moist. Finally, the Lord of the Land of the Forgotten could clearly detect just how his darling pined for him as much as he had pined for her. _And to think she did not show it all this while. We're more alike than I thought. We're proud, stubborn and utterly competitive. It's time now, however, to start saying what we truly mean._

He felt her fingers grip onto his hands with a possessive tightness as she said the words he had been waiting far too long for. "I do." If that had not made him lightheaded enough, she swung him around and, shielding their passionate embrace with her gaudy sombrero, their lips met in a hungry lock. The candles adorning her expansive hat shot out an exquisite display of fireworks, catching the eye of the mortals below. Maria and Manolo glanced up, seeing the two death gods and chuckled, wishing the king and queen of the afterlife as much happiness in their relationship as they would enjoy in theirs. The Candle Maker let out a hearty chuckle, his hands on his hips. "Well, it's about time those two worked things out."

When the lip lock sadly had to end, Xibalba's head was spinning and he was certain he heard the sultry strains of a guitar string. La Muerte giggled at the goofy, love stricken expression on his face and cupped it in his hands. "Ay Balby, listen, Manolo is singing to his beloved bride."

"Ah, well that explains a few things," He responded in a wry tone, shuddering at the feel of her soft, soft hands. Only her touch could reduce him to a pile of trembling goop. How he had missed it, no matter how embarrassing it could be. La Muerte giggled as they both teleported down below to witness the festivities. They watched as the mortals danced, swayed and joined into the rambunctious love duet Manolo and Maria. Rather caught up with the festivities, they did not expect the Candle Maker to swoop up behind them and catch them in a huge bear hug.

"Oh, this is really a good Day of the Dead, man!" He boomed, squeezing them close to his waxy, rotund figure. La Muerte was just as amused as Xibalba was not at the unwanted embrace. Their assailant then smirked and whispered into the indifferent god's ear. "Psst, if you both need someone to officiate the wedding, you just call me, you hear?" He broke into a hearty laugh at Xibalba's shocked red skulls before releasing them to join in with the merrymaking.

La Muerte giggled. "Well, it seems it's no big secret, my love." Xibalba shook his head. Not that he really cared if people knew of their reconciliation but he had hoped for some modicum of privacy. Now, that big cloudy moron was going to tossing secretive smiles and winks every time they crossed paths. Ah, what did it matter in the end? He felt La Muerte glide up against him, resting an affectionate hand on his shoulder.

"So, _mi amor_ , no hard feelings over not being able to interfere with the mortals anymore?" She punctuated her question with a peck on his cheek, possibly to perk him up the moment he remembered just what he lost. Xibalba chuckled and took her hand.

"No, my heart, not at all. Because now, I have someone to entertain me in my lonely nights in the Land of the Forgotten," He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and received a slap in the shoulder for it. Yes, he may have lost yet another bet to his ravishing nemesis but there never was a time he felt more like a big winner than right now.


	3. Relax, Take it Easy

Chapter 3

Relax, Take it Easy

It would be the cruelest lie to say that Xibalba was not absolutely excited. On his arm was the most beautiful woman he could ever have the luxury of enjoying in his presence and right now, they were heading to a much-anticipated destination. His castle in the Land of the Forgotten always beheld an air of gloomy, haunting dread but with La Muerte there, there almost appeared to be a new sense of life imbued within the crumbling stone. The lord of the dreary kingdom was practically bursting with impatience. It had been centuries since he last enjoyed feeling his delicious sugar lover melt in his intimate embrace and he was not going to waste one precious moment of it. Unlike him, his beloved had many duties in her realm and often, they would be a wrench in their romantic mechanism. However, there was no way he would let them intrude upon their alone time.

He allowed her to lead the way out of traditional gentlemanly inclination. Well that, and also because he adored watching her hips swaying as she ascended the spiral staircase that led to his bedchamber. Her voluminous wavy ponytail swung like a hypnotic pendulum to his mesmerized skulls and his ardour intensified. They had finally buried the hatchet after their latest wager and Xibalba was more than ready to consummate it. He had grown restless with her flirtatious touches and pecks. They only served to fuel a deeper, more primal need for her saccharine flesh. Why, if he could, he would have ravaged her right there on the church roof. Of course, La Muerte was of a more restrained, proper bent and she promptly slapped his roving hands away, lecturing him on the impropriety of desecrating a sacred mortal landmark. He had sulked like a spoiled brat but was easily placated by her soothing promise that "she would make it up to him."

Tonight would be that night when he would finally come to collect on what she had promised him. Once in the sanctuary of his bedchamber, a spacious room that beheld only a few pieces of practical furniture-one of which was a four poster canopy bed, very fitting for two to "reconcile" in-, Xibalba lunged for her. She let out a squeak as his skeletal arms trapped her in a passionate embrace, his ravenous lips attacking her slender neck.

"Xibalba…Xibalba…" Her hands came up to rest upon his armored shoulders, pushing on him lightly. The action was fruitless against her lustful lover who was freely consumed by his desires. "Xibalba…" She attempted again, this time in a louder and firmer voice, her hands applying harder pressure upon his seething flesh. He only responded by dragging his tongue lower to her neckline, purring at being able to traverse certain boundaries.

"Xibalba!" She snapped, shoving him off with the power of her marigold aura, sending him crashing into his full-length mirror, knocking it to the ground and causing it to shatter into pieces. Xibalba, completely caught off guard, laid on the floor in a mass of tar and disappointment before glancing at the broken glass.

"Well, _mi amor_ , we now have seven years bad luck," He stated in a deadpanned tone, receiving an eye roll from his beloved before he scrambled to his feet and took her back up in his arms. "Of course, I wouldn't care...not when my good luck charm resides right here." He purred, attempting to recapture the heated moment that she had literally quite shattered. La Muerte narrowed her eyes. She folded her arms, giving off a quite obvious aura that she was not in the same amorous straits as he was.

"Xibalba, I don't think you understand what I am trying my best to get through to your thick skull," She sighed in exasperation as he plucked one of her arms to leave devouring kisses upon the sweet skin.

"Mmm, _mi amor_ , it is all well and good if you wish to play hard to get," He darted his red skulls, darkened with simmering desire and naughty intentions, up to her with a mischievous smirk. "It rather makes the whole process even more _exciting_."

Her only response was to flick him hard on the forehead, causing him to yelp and for her to finally escape his gangly arms. She straightened her massive sombrero as it had tilted terribly during his assault and dusted off her dress. The ruler of the Land of the Forgotten was unquestionably confused. He had waited painful centuries for this very moment and here she was, the very center of his erotic fantasy, denying him the chance for it to be fulfilled. He folded his arms and sneered.

"I must say, I thought foreplay was going to be far more enjoyable than this," La Muerte snapped her head back to him with fire in her eyes. Unfortunately for Xibalba, they were not fires of passion. She jabbed a finger into his face.

"Why must men make everything about sex?!" She should have known when she suggested to Xibalba that she come visit him down at his castle that he would have tried to make untoward advances. Honestly, she did not mind his friskiness. However, she could not help but feel like he was not taking their reconciling seriously. Certainly yes, she missed how his spindly fingers would rake along her spine when she was on the verge of the blissful abyss but surely that could wait. Though she had forgiven him, they still had plenty of bridges to rebuild before they could throw caution to the wind-along with their clothes.

"What?!" He replied, going on the defensive. "You're the one who wanted to come to my castle! I thought we were going to catch up on some fond, fond memories…" He purred, taking her hand again, about ready to pepper it with butterfly kisses again. A spray of marigolds in his face thwarted his attempt.

"I'm being serious here, you old letch! I came down here because I thought you would need my company," At the gleam in his eyes, she wagged her finger in his face. "And not of _that_ variety. I was considering more of a romantic candlelight dinner. Perhaps, chess and wine would follow after that." He blinked as he realized she was being totally serious about not consummating their reconciliation.

"So….we are not going to dance the horizontal tango?" She threw her hands up in the air and let out a scream of utter frustration. "Alright, clearly wrong answer." He went to her and pulled her into his arms. She was about ready to kick up another fight when the hands caressed her shoulders affectionately, a chaste kiss pressed upon her temple.

" _Mi amor,_ do forgive my incorrigible actions tonight. I was just for too excited at the prospect of having you alone in my arms again," This seemed to pacify her as she started to relax in his arms. "I've missed you so terribly, La Muerte. Every night I would lay in that bed, rolling over in grave want for you." She turned to him with disbelieving eyes at this admission. Taking his gloved hand in his, she kissed the fingers one by one, causing him to practically go limp against her.

"Ay, Balby, I never knew you were in such agony without me. I know I was as well." It was Xibalba's turn now to react greatly to her admission. He had always thought that he was forever the one pining in their push and pull relationship. Never would he fathom his presence meant as much to her as hers did to him. He pressed his lips against her cheek, whispering.

"I was helpless, _mi amor_. I suppose I came on too strongly tonight but can you honestly fault me for my eagerness?" La Muerte pretended to think about it for a long time. "Hmm, maybe. After all, we just earned seven years bad luck." She gestured at the mess of broken glass on the floor.

"Hey! You were the one who pushed me into it, remember?"

"Well, you wouldn't stop slobbering all over me like an old blood hound. And really, Xibalba? A full-length mirror?" She raised an eye ridge, causing him to stiffen in defense. "What?! I rather like it. Allows me to see just how dashing I still am despite the gloom and doom of this land." He puffed out his chest in pride.

La Muerte snorted and lifted her head to peck him on his chin, causing him to dissolve into shuddering mush against her. She gently stroked his cranium, lulling him into a mesmerizing calmness.

"Ay, Balby, I do wish to go back to our nights of carnality too. But…I did just forgave you and we did just agree to reconcile. Can't we just take our time readjusting? Please, Balby?" Her lower red lip stuck out in a pout and her countenance took over an innocent aura, reminiscent to a groveling kitten. Xibalba gazed upon it, sighing. For such a sweet, compassionate soul, she could play very, very dirty. He took her hand in his, covering it possessively.

"Of course, my love. Anything for you," They stayed like that for approximately two minutes before he quipped. "So…how about now?"

 _SLAP!_

"What?!"

A/N: Thank you all for the sweet, sweet reviews. I am so inspired by this pairing and I absolutely enjoy writing this collection. Hope you all enjoy me churning out all these chapters.


	4. The Magic of Amor

A/N: Now, this idea is not really mine. This drawing of Grave Painters with Tangled references by an artist on Tumblr, who I apologize because I cannot remember your username, inspired me. I loved your doodle so much; I think it would make a good story. So, if you are reading this please give yourself a shout out too cause I wouldn't be able to make this without you.

Chapter 4

The Magic of _Amor_

"Are you sure about this, your Majesty? Given how long and thick your hair-not that it's not beautiful, of course-it will take us a good few hours to get it all fixed," Leah, one of La Muerte's handmaidens that was blessed with deft hands commented as she fingered one of the shiny licorice strands. Fearing too that the luscious sugar locks may just snap in her hands, she handled them with the dearest of care. Imagine her intrigue when the ruler of the Land of the Remembered had requested for a new change of hairstyle. She really could do with a new, refreshing coif. With luxurious flowing tresses like these that could inspire great envy in other women, herself included, Leah was determined to ensure this new style the queen had in mind would be achieved in all its imagined perfection. However, as she took in the mass of shiny ebony glory, she was beginning to have reservations on the whole ordeal.

La Muerte though was not going to let this go. She had been having this idea bouncing around in her head for a while now. Particularly while, as Mary Beth, she had noticed the current coiffures modern ladies were sporting in the museum nowadays. There was no harm in trying something different. Besides, today Xibalba had promised her a little surprise and had kept absolute mum. He was especially dedicated to ensure she did not ruin her own happiness. Despite all the girlish pouts, kitten eyes and tempting caresses, he had kept his lips sealed. Huh, if only he could remain silent like that after he had just spouted something totally insensitive. Then, maybe, things would go more smoothly. Their reconciling was off on the good roads nonetheless. Her beau was trying his hardest to be more open minded about the humans though his dislike of children had not truly wane. Still, she had to give him credit for sticking to his end of the wager: no poking his unwanted nasal cavity into the mortals' affairs. Well, now and then, he would scare the pants off an unsuspecting human just for the fun of it but at least he was not dragging them down to their afterlife prematurely. Getting back together was going just fine and now, he had hoped to add a little spice into their making up with a little spontaneity.

In spite of all odds and how the grains of sand in her glass would run, she was going to get her hair ready in time for that occasion. She gave an encouraging smile to Leah and patted her hands. "Just do your best, Leah. Please. I really want this and besides, it is high time for a change," As she said this, her eyes darted to the mannequin in her bedchamber where her giant sombrero laid, the candles extinguished and marigolds forlorn. It almost looked upset at having been casted aside in favor for something fresher. "I'm sure we can finish by tonight. Xibalba hopes to surprise me with something very special by then."

At the mention of the ruler of the Land of the Forgotten, Leah visibly shuddered. She had hoped to not be detected by La Muerte given how she and the cold tar deity had reunited in terms of romance. Unfortunately, the goddess had noticed and turned to her, eyeing her with uncertain eyes. Leah hurried to issue a panicked apology but was cut off by La Muerte. "Is it really that hard to imagine, Leah, that I would fall in love with him again?"

Leah set her jaw in place. Her mind was searching rapidly for a suitable response when again the queen who sighed deeply halted her. "You know, Leah, _amor_ is a very manipulative tease. Sometimes, he thinks you don't deserve anyone right at this moment but many years later, he'll surprise you. Other times, he lets you think that you're perfectly all right without the love of your life but really you're not. And most annoyingly, he will make you fall in love with someone you never imagined you would ever love. Because, unfortunately that is love's nature." She looked up to smile wistfully at her faithful handmaiden who hung onto every word with wide eyes.

Leah had been rather unlucky in love. Before she had died and became a loyal servant to the kindhearted La Muerte, she had suffered a string of unsuccessful liaisons. Men to her were deceitful cheaters who only hoped to drink the milk for free but never to pay for the whole cow. She had perished tragically from suffering severe complications while carrying an illegitimate child, a memento from her last ailing attachment. Now, with her premature dead baby Juan, she lived down in the Land of the Remembered, making herself useful by serving the people's beloved ruler. La Muerte proved not only a just and giving ruler, but a wonderful voice of wisdom. Yet, after listening to such eloquent advice, she turned away, her gaze at a far corner of the room. In that tiny corner, she saw herself, forever doomed to be single, as it appeared no one wanted her for more than a few hours. The goddess took her small hands tenderly in hers, a vastly required maternal touch.

"Leah, _amor_ has been fearfully unkind to you, I know. But here, in the land of the Remembered, I will not give up hope that you will find someone who truly will cherish you and little Juan. How about Consuelo? He has been eyeing you," Leah balked at such a fanciful idea. Consuelo was a hardworking handyman La Muerte sometimes called over to fix certain things in the castle who had fallen misfortune to a work related accident. After being crushed by a ton of bricks without warning, the amiable laborer had gained entrance to the afterlife. He was truly a nice person and rather good looking with his dark brown curls and green eyes. However, he was very soft-spoken and often casted his gaze down while speaking to anyone of the opposite gender. Surely, a silent, diligent worker such as him would want nothing to do with a sprightly, jaded lonely mother.

Noticing how skeptical her handmaiden had become, La Muerte chuckled and whirled back around on her chair and resuming her position facing her mirror. "Just consider it, Leah. Who knows? _Amor_ is a very surprising man. Now come along, dear, we need to get started if we wish to be ready in the next few hours." Leah nodded her obedience, incredibly relieved that the queen did not decide to push the matter about her lack of love. Taking up a portion of the silken mass in one hand and plucking a marigold from a basket nearby with the other, she set herself a strenuous, methodical task.

Time passed without one even knows it in the land below where the dead roamed either festively or doomed to loneliness. The people of the Land of the Remembered were engrossed in their gorging on sweet treats or dancing to wild mariachi to notice that the ruler of the Land of the Forgotten had decided to trespass on their merrymaking. Not like they had anything to say about it though. It had been a weird time for the people to accept and get adjusted to their fair queen reconciling with this supposedly loveless deity but after witnessing just how her golden eyes lit up with delight in his presence, they realized that as long as she was happy, they could be as well.

If only Xibalba treated them with a little more cordiality. He was respectful enough if one called indifference a trait of respect. They concluded that as long as you did not invade his "personal bubble" as he liked to name it, he would not give them any trouble. The god was carelessly passing through the various partiers, in search of his quite literal sweetheart. He had a very splendid treat planned for her and none of these ridiculously drunk-and certainly would be diabetic-fools were going to get in the way. La Muerte had sent a message to him half an hour before they were supposed to meet that she wanted him to wait at the entrance of her castle. When he had reached the noted destination, he noticed a crowd of her people had gathered there, especially those who had decided to restrain themselves a little in their decadence. He raised a silver eyebrow and prodded the nearest skeleton next to him with snake staff.

"What's with the illegal gathering? Did La Muerte call you all too?" The corpse, a young man who had departed due to a badly aimed arrow rubbed his back with an irritated frown. He knew better than to keep Xibalba's curiosity simmering so he responded-albeit with a hint of offense-that there had been lips flapping about how their ruler had something she wished to unveil. Well, that did little to satisfy Xibalba's desire to know. If anything, it fueled his need to see just what his little darling had planned.

"Hey! You here too to see the great unveiling?" He shut his eyes with a groan of annoyance. This was just too wonderful. Not only were the many little lemmings of the kingdom intruding on his private date with La Muerte, that waxy idiot was here too. "Man, what do you think it is? Ooh, I wonder if it's a new dress! Or a new magic trick she learnt! Or new dishes for a fiesta! It's amazing how servants can pass gossip along, right?"

Apparently ignoring his incessant, excited chatter was not an effective way of getting rid of the Candle Maker. In fact, the ignoramus pretty much cozied up to him. "Hey now, we can get along better now can't we…. Balby?"

"Silence, you! And don't call me that!" He jabbed his snake staff threateningly at his teaser's cloudy beard. The Candle Maker now held up his hands in disarming defense. Xibalba punctuated it with a warning hiss and turned back to look up the castle's entrance longingly. "Only _she_ can call me that."

The Candle Maker shook his head, smiling, having been able to hear his muttering. At that point, a united gasp arose from the crowd of onlookers as the castle doors opened and out stepped La Muerte…without her trademark sombrero. "Hey now, where'd that trendy cap of hers go?" Xibalba's eyes widened. La Muerte went almost everywhere without that gaudy thing adorning her gorgeous hair. The goddess in question now had her arms akimbo, shaking her head.

"I'm supposing the servants have been spreading that I have done something new that I apparently wish to share. But all right, it's not really that big a deal but I think it is a very new happening for me," With that, she spun around and the again, a loud gasp echoed from the gatherers. Xibalba's jaw dropped. The Candle Maker this time joined him and did not pull it back into place.

La Muerte's lusciously thick, dreamily wavy locks were plaited into a princess plait, with glowing marigolds woven into the close fitting crevasses. A row of tiny buds decorated the crown of her head and the ribbons holding the braid in place were a darker, glossier fabric of her dress. She was positively _enchanting_. It was as though she were the protagonist of a well-loved children's fairy tale with her fantastic new hairdo. Xibalba continued to stand there with his mouth hanging open as her subjects ran to her, raining down on her enthusiastic compliments.

His mesmerized condition was broken by an elbow nudge the Candle Maker gave to him, his cloudy eyebrows waggling. "She certainly looks fine, don't she, huh?" Xibalba's only response was to shove his smirking face out of his own before clearing a path for himself through the appraising horde before addressing his blooming marigold.

"You never fail to astound me with your beauty, _mi amor_ ," He leaned on his snake staff, taking in her intricate braid from all angles. "You have definitely outdone yourself. It certainly is a refreshing change from that gaudy-I mean gorgeous-sombrero of yours." La Muerte shook her head at his convenient slip of the tongue but had to admit that not wearing her hat and all its heavy adornments for a night was very liberating. She whirled around for him, the swishing braid following her every twirl and movement with unsurpassable grace.

"So, you approve, Balby? Should I keep to this then?" Xibalba cupped his chin as though in deep thought as he circled her, surveying her well woven plait.

"Hmm, it is indeed very majestic, _mi amor_. But then again, anything on you looks stunning. However," He lifted up the braid with a disappointed look in his eyes. "I won't be able to now run my fingers through it. I rather like the feeling of your silken strands around her hands."

"That's because you also like to pluck them to chew on." That was her flat response and Xibalba threw his hands up rather comically. La Muerte giggled and then pecked him on the cheek much to the disgust of the younger dead surrounding her. "Perhaps you're right. It did take Leah a good few hours to get my hair like this and to ensure the marigolds stayed in place. I may just reserve this particular style for a special occasion," She lowered her voice to whisper into his ear, sending shivers throughout his tar frame. "Such as this one, my dear Balby."

"Well, let's not waste time then, _mi amor_." He hooked his arm with hers. "I have got quite the spectacle to show you. It may be unlike anything you have ever seen." Before, they could ascend; a shout begging for patience stopped them. Xibalba scowled at the intruding handmaiden but La Muerte immediately turned to receive her clamoring audience. Leah whispered a few words to the queen and the two women shared a private conversation, one Xibalba watched with raised eyebrows of piqued interest. Once the two broke their verbal contact, he asked her what had transpired. La Muerte answered with a grin that her loyal handmaiden had decided to take a chance on _Amor_ once more.

"Who knew that shy Consuelo could be such a sweet talker with the right girl?"

"Funny, you asked the same thing about me. But you called me "an incorrigible bit of tar." He accepted the slap on his shoulder as they both shared a hearty laugh before heading up into the mortal world. The Candle Maker watched the two with an approving nod. _For a selfish, lying mess of icky tar, that Xibalba can be quite the stud after all._

When the two deities had risen from their graves up into the center of San Angel cemetery, La Muerte glanced around her. There was nothing out of the ordinary. She half-expected something flamboyant, knowing Xibalba's showman personality but there was not a tombstone out of place. Her lover chuckled at her expectation of something wild and wacky and took her hands gently. "Wait, _mi amor_ , let us give it a couple of minutes."

Somewhere from the balcony of their new home of wedded bliss, Maria and Manolo approached a lone table, where a lantern awaited to be lit and sent off. Each lantern had an adorable miniature design of La Muerte in a drawn heart. "I never knew that old bit of tar had such a romantic streak in him," Maria commented as Manolo lit the inside of the lantern and casting it upwards into the air and, as Xibalba had planned, the wind carried it across the direction to the graveyard. Chuckling, the guitarist turned to his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

"Ah, my dear, _amor_ makes one do the most ridiculous things but those things are often done out of the most heartfelt intentions." Maria smiled at her husband's eloquent words and they shared a tender lip lock as they watched their lantern float up, signaling for other households to cast up their own lanterns. Significantly, Xibalba had ensured each household that sent up a lantern was one that enjoyed passionate and devoted _amor_.

"Ah, my sweet one, look. Do you see that?" La Muerte's eyes focused on the night sky and she let out a gasp of wonder as the flood of lanterns, each depicting a tiny her in a heart came gliding out like dancing fairies into over the cemetery. Some floated just nearby for her to touch one and send it back up high into the night sky. Her eyes glistened with brimming gratitude as she watched some of them disappear into the stars, almost wanting to etch itself into the sky as an eternal reminder of her lover's surprise for her. Before she completely burst into tears of sheer delight, she turned back to Xibalba who had caught two lanterns for them to send back out on their journey. It was a journey to illustrate just how prominent _Amor_ was about them and how despite being shared by rulers of the Dead, it would never ever die out.

"Ay, Balby, how did you ever manage this?" He smirked, feeling extremely pleased at himself for making her so dewy eyed with contentment at her present. "It was simple really, sweetheart. I merely told Manolo that I wished for something special for you that I think he and Maria could do for us. Besides, it is sort of minor payback for me giving him another chance at winning his wife. They rounded up all the married couples and lovers of the village to design a lantern of you, for you are the pillar of love, warmth and passion and send it out when it was pitch black so that the whole village will see just how much of _amor_ you could bring to countless of people, whether living or dead. It is also for me to show you just how very, very, extremely serious I am about this reunion of us, my love. You were worried I may not be, that I would betray you again and I hope that this would finally set your mind at ease. Does it?"

There was no reply. Not that there was a possibility of La Muerte giving one as she had embraced Xibalba tightly in her arms, her red lips pressed against his black ones in an explosively emotional kiss, her tears of joy running down her cheeks. This horrid, competitive, deceitful and cunning trickster had just melted her heart and she loved every bit of him. _Amor_ had done well for her. From now on, everyday, she will send a little prayer of thanks to him. Once released, Xibalba had the goofiest lovesick grin on his face and La Muerte giggled, playing with his white beard.

"So…I'm taking that as a yes?" He purred, rubbing his face against her tender palms. La Muerte rolled her eyes but nodded regardless, taking his face and peppering it with little kisses.

"Thank you so much, Balby. You really have shown you love me," Xibalba smiled and handed her a lantern. "I do love you and I will continue to show you I love you for the rest of my afterlife. Although, perhaps not like this. Wind direction can be an unpredictable factor."

She snorted and punched him in the arm for ruining the mood but expected no less from him. They both poised their lanterns for ascension and let them go, watching as the twin paper creations were carried by the wind upwards, their hands now no longer occupied with nothing else but each others.


End file.
